Brandon and Savannah were laughing beside their rented Escalade.
“I think a man who can smile at his wife on the courthouse steps while his girlfriend holds his arm is a man who’s already decided the rules don’t apply to him.”
He paused.
“I’ve interviewed forty of him. They all smile. Lock the cards.”
So I sat on a cold metal bench outside the courthouse.
My hands trembled as I opened my banking apps.
One account.
Then another.
I called our bank’s security department and asked them to revoke Brandon’s remaining card permissions.
I changed passwords.
Enabled additional verification.
And locked all six corporate cards.
Then I remembered something.
In 2021, I’d let Brandon use the company’s black card to arrange a dinner for one of our clients.
He’d saved the card information to his phone.
I’d never asked him to remove it.
Until that afternoon, I’d barely remembered it happened.
Brandon passed us again on his way to the SUV.
He glanced at my phone.
“You’re being ridiculous, Elena.”
I looked up.
“And you’re being awfully confident, Brandon.”
Something flickered in his eyes.
Only for a second.
Then he smiled again and walked away.
Dad watched him.
“He’s got a card number,” he said. “Didn’t he.”
